


In a Kinder World

by AmunetMana



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Brain Surgery, Bucky's memory diaries, Canon until Winter Soldier, Gen, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Shuri's 12 and unstoppable, Wakanda, White Wolf - Freeform, liberal use of bath bombs, references to later canon, sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmunetMana/pseuds/AmunetMana
Summary: In which Bucky finds his way to Wakanda years earlier, and entirely of his own accord. Having nothing but a backpack of memories and a mind and arm he can’t trust, Bucky hands himself over to Wakanda freely, seeking help.Now it for Wakanda to decide what fate awaits him.





	In a Kinder World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReluctantRavenclaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReluctantRavenclaw/gifts).



> Literally written cause I hate how Civil War played out, but love Bucky being in Wakanda.
> 
> I couldn't pick a genre, so forgive the strange cocktail mix of angst and comedy.
> 
> For ReluctantRavenclaw, for sticking with me on the rollercoaster that was writing this in under a day.

Wakanda has a long history of secrecy. They are cloaked from the world, protected and secure against any threats. So, it is with no small amount of surprise that one day there is a strange, white man ambling towards their home, tired and ragged.

 

“Who are you?” W’Kabi demands, ready to defend his land and his people. His tension increases when he sees the strange way the man carries himself – he leans heavily towards his left. Even his manner of dress is suspicious; he is fully covered from head to toe, with long sleeves and gloves covering his hands. “Answer _now_ ,” W’Kabi stresses when the man doesn’t speak, instead looking at them somewhat helplessly.

 

W’Kabi’s men raise their weapons higher as the man slides off his backpack, and shakes it open. But it’s only a few books that tip out, and the man looks forlorn at the sight of them.

 

“I’m pretty sure,” he says tiredly, “that you’re the only people left in the world who I haven’t pissed off.”

 

W’Kabi’s eyes narrow. The man seems unbothered – no, _resigned_ – to whatever fate they decide to bestow on him. When they don’t immediately respond, the man slowly shrugs off his jacket and slides off his gloves. He discards the items like they’re meaningless to him, and soon no one is paying attention to them when they realise what he’s been hiding underneath. A low muttering builds amongst W’Kabi’s men as the gleam of the metal arm is revealed, offered towards them, palms open. They _know_ that arm, even if they did not immediately recognise the man.

 

This is the Winter Soldier – James Buchanan Barnes, who has so dominated Western news in recent months. A weapon of HYDRA. W’Kabi’s eyes narrow, but he makes his decision quickly.

 

“Summon the prince,” he tells his men, eyes remaining trained on Bucky. The man in question doesn’t react, except to slump and let his arm fall by his side, staring at it balefully. He still leans ever so slightly towards it, and it makes sense now. If James Barnes cares, or even notices one of the men activating their kimoyo beads behind W’Kabi, he does not say anything. “And in the meantime,” W’Kabi continues firmly, eying James Buchanan Barnes up, “your arm will be removed, and you will be restrained.”

 

He does not expect the sudden laugh that comes from Bucky, or the almost hysterical relief that breaks out over his face.

 

“Thank fuck,” the man says, holding out his arms once more, tense expression unwinding. “I thought you were never going to ask.”

 

~

 

T’Challa arrives to a bizarre scene at the border. W’Kabi sits with an unfamiliar man – the Winter Soldier, T’Challa presumes - apparently chatting amiably as one of W’Kabi’s men stands to the side, clutching a metal arm that hangs awkwardly from his grip. There is no space on the plains for T’Challa to hide, and so he strides up to the men. He has foregone the Black Panther suit in any case, in the interests of maintaining some sort of secrecy about Wakanda. W’Kabi and the Winter Soldier look up as he approaches, and W’Kabi’s face doesn’t appear to know what expression it’s trying to make. Mostly, he looks confused. The Soldier, on the other hand, looks sheepish.

 

“Hello,” he says, and fails to wave with his arm bound intricately around his back, legs similarly bound together. Someone had really overdone the restraints – despite knowing that the vibranium interlaced with them would have already made it impossible for even a super soldier to break free. “I’m really sorry about this,” the Soldier continues, and T’Challa somehow can’t find his words. “I don’t want to be any trouble,” the Soldier rushes to assure him, “I was just wondering - if you had anywhere I could just lay low, or stay. I don’t mind you keeping me tied up,” he adds on, jiggling in his restraints. W’Kabi’s expression abruptly makes more sense, as T’Challa finds himself equally bemused.

 

“We can…consider it,” T’Challa says dumbly. “I will need to speak to my father first. Until then, you will need to remain restrained, and kept in a secure location.”

 

Bucky Barnes nods, jiggling again in his restraints, apparently to demonstrate just how secure they are. “That seems reasonable,” he says, and T’Challa just hopes his father will have some kind of idea just what to do with all this.

 

~

 

T’Chaka has no idea what to do with any of this. He will reach a decision, he knows, because he always does. He is King, and that means making choices no matter how hard those choices are. But for now, watching Barnes settle seemingly quite happily in his cell, he has as little idea what to do as anyone else.

 

“They say the Winter Soldier is a ghost,” Okoye points out, from her position across the room. She is making no secret of watching the footage herself, although she remains with her back ramrod straight and to attention. “This…does not seem very ghost-like.”

 

“There is no way HYDRA knows of Wakanda,” T’Chaka murmurs, eyes fixed on the screen as Barnes glances about his room with idle curiosity. “None of our war dogs have reported as such, and there have been no incursions on Wakandan soil.” If HYDRA had any idea of their source of Vibranium, they would have made a play for it by now.

 

T’Challa and W’Kabi had seen to it that Barnes’ senses were nullified upon their entrance into the Capital, so that if in the end T’Chaka had to release him to the custody of another nation, Barnes would not be able to carry any of Wakanda’s secrets out with him. T’Chaka watches a moment longer, before turning away from the screen with a sigh.

 

“We have recovered all information pertaining to this Soldier, both from his life as James Buchanan Barnes, and of his…work…with HYDRA,” T’Chaka tells Okoye, looking to her. She looks back, expression impassive even as he can see anticipation in her eyes. “It seems it will come down to whether he acted willingly in his actions to support HYDRA, or whether he was coerced.” Okoye inclines her head, before moving to follow T’Chaka as he walks from the room.

 

“The books he brought have been checked,” Okoye informs him, “and they appear to be his own account of the events he has taken part in. Those he remembers.” Okoye lifts her wrists, and flicks open a small hologram. They fall into step so T’Chaka can better see. The passages Okoye shows him appear to be mismatched and rambling in places, as though Bucky Barnes had been frantic in pouring out his memories before they slipped away. “We cannot find any mention of Wakanda in any of them,” Okoye says, closing the hologram. “Neither directly related, or merely circumstantial. There are however details of a _great_ many crimes in there,” she says, something dark in her tone. “If he was ever trying to conceal some crime, or obscure his history,” she continues, tone shifting, “then it is not very smart of him to have written them all down.”

 

“We can cross reference the books with everything else we know,” T’Chaka says, as they enter the throne room. “And then, perhaps, we can reach a decision on what to do with this man.”

 

~

 

Shuri is twelve, already the smartest person in Wakanda, and deeply frustrated that no one will tell her what all the whispering is about. If she is smart enough to assist in building new technology for her country, she is smart enough to be told, and understand, whatever it is that’s making her baba and brother act so strangely. They don’t even look scared, so it can’t be that bad. They mainly just look confused – and Shuri can make them look like that easily enough by herself.

 

She takes it upon herself to go exploring, investigating the trail that has been left behind by the flurry of people who do get to know what’s going on. No one had thought to tell Shuri what was happening, but that also meant no one had thought to hide what they were doing from her either. And there is a mysterious something happening down in the cells beneath the palace. They are rarely used, and Shuri’s interest is piqued more than ever.

 

Hacking into the systems keeping the door locked is way too easy, and Shuri makes notes to herself on how it can be improved. But for now, she leaves it, and slips down the winding staircase that leads to the cells. It is cool down there, well-lit but not overtly bright, and the cells have been fitted with forcefields that allow one to look it without anyone looking back out. Simple, but useful. As it transpires, there really was only one person in the entire block, and Shuri stands before his cell, peering in curiously.

 

It is a white man, and he only has one arm. Shuri looks at the absent space with vague offence. A missing arm is something they could fix in a heartbeat – she wants to run off to design one straight away, but curiosity keeps her in place. She taps on her beads and holds them up to the control panel for the cell, opening an audio channel.

 

“Hello,” she says, and the man blinks in surprise. He doesn’t jump, though, and Shuri is a little disappointed. “Who are you?” She asks, still peering through the forcefield. “Why are you here? Why don’t you have an arm? Why are you tied up so much?” It wasn’t like he could escape even without them binding him in place.

 

“Um,” the man says, eyes darting around as he fails to work out where to look for the source of the voice. “I’m Bucky. I came here for help. I had a metal arm, but they took it away - I don’t mind, I didn’t want it - and I’m tied up because I could be dangerous.”

 

Shuri ponders over his answer, frowning. “How can you not know if you’re dangerous or not?” She asks, nose wrinkling. Bucky looks like he’s unsure of just how to answer, head tilted to one side.

 

“Some...bad people did stuff to my head,” he settles on, “and that means they can make me do bad things. They’re not around to do stuff to me anymore, but I don’t know if there’s anything left over that would make me hurt someone.”

 

Oh. That was a little scarier. But nothing that couldn’t be fixed; maybe that’s what Shuri’s brother and baba are doing. Discussing with the scientists how best to take out the bad stuff. “Ok,” she tells Bucky. “That makes sense. We can fix that for you,” she adds, in case no one has told him yet. Bucky looks surprised.

 

“You can?” He asks, and Shuri rolls her eyes.

 

“Duh,” she says, and taps her finger idly against the wall. Then, just in case her baba and brother are not being sensible, she sends out a message with what she’s learnt from Bucky –  and how she thinks they can help him. Message sent, she turns back to the cell. “Do you like bubble baths?” She asks, trusting her family to do the rest. Bucky looks surprised again, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

 

“I don’t know what that is,” he admits, and Shuri’s jaw drops.

 

“You have to have one,” she announces, and the crease deepens.

 

“I don’t think I’m allowed out of the cell.”

 

“I’ll get the Dora Milaje to escort us.”

 

“Still could be dangerous.”

 

“Dora Milaje. And you can stay tied up if you want.”

 

“Ok.” Bucky looks a little bemused now – more like everyone else dealing with his arrival. “Um. I mean, you should definitely check with someone. But otherwise, ok?”

 

Shuri smiles, satisfied, tapping her kimoyo beads again. It isn’t long before three of the Dora Milaje are stood before her, and at one glance Shuri can tell there is a lecture waiting for her.

 

“I’m taking him for a bubble bath!” She launches in with immediately. “And he’s happy to stay tied up and he’s happy for you to guard me from him and I already know how to fix him.”

 

The Dora Milaje glance at each other. Shuri stares her down with every ounce of Princess-ly power she can muster. The Dora Milaje turn their gaze on Bucky and appear to reach a conclusion. One of them sighs, and Shuri grins widely.

 

~

 

“She did _what_?”

 

Okoye reacts as loudly to the news of Shuri’s antics as loudly as her king and prince do, and she doesn’t have to wait for their signal to swiftly exit the throne room, taking long strides. She gets a buzz on her own beads, from the Dora Milaje, and she frowns down at the news. Shuri had taken him _where_? Okoye adjusts her course, continuing on until she reaches a large bathing facility. It is as much a swimming pool as it is baths, but it is where the Dora Milaje have directed her too, and that means Shuri is inside.

 

Okoye bursts in, spear at the ready to take down the Soldier should it prove necessary, only to stop still. Three of her women are stood in position around one of the baths, looking perplexed and, upon spotting her, guilty. Okoye’s gaze drops down to one of the pools –  which is barely recognisable, the water having been turned into a rainbow of colours, thousands of bubbles drifting up and around the dripping head of Barnes. Then, sat at the other end of the considerably sized pool, in a swimming costume with her legs dangling into the frothy water, Shuri. She has a holographic display up, projecting from her beads, and is showing Barnes a series of recordings of Wakanda. The footage is shaky, jerking about with footsteps, and Okoye realises that it is all footage recorded by Shuri herself, chasing around Wakanda.

 

“And this is the Border Tribe, you met them, and we’re the Golden Tribe, you’ve met _us_ \- ”

 

“Princess!” Okoye calls out, and Shuri’s attention snaps to her. The ever-familiar expression of a child who knows they’ve been caught in the act of something naughty is clear over Shuri’s features, but Okoye refuses to be swayed by her suddenly big, watery eyes.

 

“Okoye,” Shuri greets her nervously, and Barnes also turns his head to look at her. Some of the bubbles are actually on top of his head.

 

“What are you doing with Barnes?” Okoye asks, internally counting to ten.

 

“ _Sergeant_ Barnes,” Shuri says promptly, and Barnes’ – Sergeant Barnes’ – lip quirks strangely, “he’s never had a bubble bath, Okoye! And he’s never tried bath bombs!”

 

“And just how many bath bombs is he trying now?” Okoye asks, eyebrows climbing up towards her tattoo. Shuri fails to maintain her look of embarrassment, and switches instead to gleeful pride.

 

“Six,” she informs Okoye smugly, “as well as the bubbles.”

 

Six. This child. “And did you stop at any point to consider the danger Sergeant Barnes might present? Why he was locked away in the first place?”

 

Shuri waves her hand, dismissive, and kicks up some of the rainbow water, sending bubbles flying. “Sergeant Barnes told me all about that. Besides, he’s still tied up underneath the water. We only adjusted the ropes a little, so he could walk instead of being carried.”

 

Okoye frowns. Looks at her women. The other Dora Milaje shrug, and nod. Okoye peers down at Sergeant Barnes, whose body is still obscured up to the neck.

 

“Is this true?” She asks, and he gives her a tentative kind of half-smile.

 

“It seemed like a good compromise?” He offers, and Okoye wonders if this truly is the most elaborate of all infiltration missions carried out in the history of the world, or if Sergeant Barnes is, in fact, a little crazy but mostly innocent all the same.

 

“Anyway, Okoye!” Shuri interrupts Okoye’s thoughts by jumping up onto the edge of the bath. Her legs are stained by the water, and Okoye can only imagine what that means for pulling Sergeant Barnes out of the bath. “ _Okoye_! Did baba and my brother get my message? They need to tell the scientists what to do to help Sergeant Barnes!”

 

“...they did not mention it,” Okoye says carefully. “They were more concerned in securing your safety, princess.”

 

The extremity of Shuri’s eye roll tells Okoye exactly what she thinks of that.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Shuri announces, walking around the edge of the bath, past Sergeant Barnes, to jump down to the floor. Sergeant Barnes makes a valiant effort to twist his head and follow her motions, but it becomes more obvious just how much he is restricted beneath the water. If he managed to twist over, Okoye thinks, he would likely end up flipped over entirely and wind up face down in the water.

 

Shuri has a towel wrapped around herself, despite being relatively dry, and her most precocious expression on. “I’m heading down to the labs,” she announces grandly, “and I will develop the treatment for Sergeant Barnes myself. Since apparently no one else is going to do it.”

 

“Princess,” Okoye says, tone warning, and Shuri quits whilst she’s ahead, dashing from the room. Two of the Dora Milaje follow, leaving the third with Okoye to deal with Sergeant Barnes.

 

“I’m sorry,” is what Sergeant Barnes has to say for himself, as they heft him out of the tub. He really is dyed in rainbow colours from the neck down, including his boxers and even the dripping tips of his hair. “I figured if the Dora - uh, if the guards were ok with it, it meant everyone was ok with it?” Okoye gives him a look that conveys perfectly well that that did not mean everyone was ok with it at all.

 

“Well, hey. I had no idea Wakanda has so much going on,” Sergeant Barnes says next as he changes the subject, and his eyes seem to light up with something almost reaching genuine joy. “All the technology, and the tribes...” he looks around the baths, down to the rainbows and back up again, “all this. It’s incredible.”

 

He doesn’t ask how they did it. Doesn’t ask why they’ve kept it secret. Just looks excited, and happy, and Okoye sighs. There goes the King’s plan to keep Wakanda a secret from him.

 

“We must head to the labs,” Okoye says, rather than answer him. “The Princess may be young, but she truly is one of the greatest technical minds in Wakanda. If she says she can find what’s wrong, she likely can.”

 

The hope in Sergeant Barnes’ eyes is so fragile. Okoye cannot find it in herself to be _very_ furious with him. That does not mean she will not be cautious – and it certainly does not mean the releasing of bonds, or free run of the palace, and especially not immunity from his crimes, should the king not decree it so. But she does find him a towel to hang over his shoulders, and takes him down to the labs where Shuri is waiting eagerly. Sergeant Barnes looks around the lab tentatively, and Okoye thinks of the photos that had been leaked of a dirty, dark room with a chair out of a horror movie in the centre of it.

 

One of the scientists come over to them, smiling gently.

 

“This way please,” she says, and leads Sergeant Barnes to sit on a long gurney. They shift Sergeant Barnes until he is lying, and with the flick of a button the bindings fall from him, rendered inert. Sergeant Barnes flinches, suddenly afraid - for them, Okoye realises, and clenches her spear a little tighter. But the scientists are apparently fearless, and ignore Barnes’ sudden movement, and Shuri bounces up beside him in any case, holding onto his hand.

 

“We’re going to sedate you,” Shuri tells him gently, “and then we will definitely make sure that you’re free from the bad men, and from _anyone_ who wants to try and control you.” Barnes stares at her, wide eyed in a way he hasn’t been with her until now, but makes himself lie carefully back, until he is flat on the gurney, facing upwards. He closes his eyes, and a low hiss of the machinery indicates his sedation, his breathing evening out as his body relaxes fully.

 

The other scientist studies him a moment more whilst Shuri releases his hand carefully, laying it beside on the gurney. The scientist turns to look at Okoye.

 

“Thank you for bringing him,” she says. “We shall care for him from here. The Princess has a great many theories on what we can do to help him.”

 

Okoye nods. “She certainly does,” she agrees, eyes lingering on Sergeant Barnes. She certainly hopes he is genuinely what he claims to be. She would hate to be the one to break Shuri’s heart over someone like a willing Winter Soldier. She taps her spear on the ground and the Dora Milaje stand to attention before filing out of the room. There is nothing more for them to do there.

 

~

 

T’Challa cannot lie and say he isn’t relieved when his father decides to grant Bucky asylum, even besides Shuri’s dogged insistence. He remembers the last time he saw Nakia - heading out on her latest mission, insistent that it is her calling – her _duty_ to help everyone. Not just Wakanda and Wakandans, but the world. She has been gone for some months now, and there is no way to contact her. But she would, he thinks, be proud to see that even his father, his so very isolationist father, has decided to help Bucky Barnes.

 

T’Challa waits by Bucky’s bedside for the man to come around. Shuri had been bouncing off the walls with excitement as she watched the live scans of Bucky’s brain, pointing and comparing it with stills of his brain from before her treatment. T’Challa is not the scientist his sister is, but he trusts in her knowledge, and can see for himself the changes – the slow burning away of unnatural, scarred trails cutting through Bucky’s brain, and the restoration of healthy tissue that follows. Shuri is bright eyed and flushed with success, and T’Challa is so proud.

 

He waits another ten minutes beside the bed before Bucky finally stirs, eyelids fluttering.

 

“Sergeant Barnes,” he greets him, and Bucky twists confused eyes onto him.

 

“Your…Majesty?” Bucky returns, voice rasping. “Uh. Bucky is fine.”

 

“Then so is T’Challa,” T’Challa says firmly. Bucky’s mouth flicks up at the corner. He flexes his hand, and T’Challa can see the moment he realises he isn’t restrained. “Do not worry,” he tells Bucky quickly. “Shuri was successful. She found the triggers. Found _everything_ left behind in your mind by your captors. You are healed, Bucky. And we will not let them touch you again.”

 

 _Triggers_. _Captors_. T’Challa can see Bucky turning the words over in his head. Understands their implicit meaning.

 

“I remember all of it,” Bucky says anyway, quietly. “Everything I did, as the Soldier.” He sounds so in pain, and T’Challa knows it’s not from the treatment.

 

“That does not mean you were responsible,” T’Challa tells him, softly, firmly. “You were a victim of a powerful, terrible organisation, which took advantage of you. No more. You are safe now, Bucky. Wakanda promises you that.”

 

Bucky looks so lost, crumbling under the weight of relief as everything - the fear, the panic, the guilt – drains from his body, if only temporarily. His face crumples, and T’Challa can see tears forming in his eyes. He leans back in his chair to give Bucky some space, and waits patiently as Bucky finally releases everything he’d been keeping inside him, shuddering faintly with half-restrained sobs that he cannot contain.

 

He quietens down after a time, emotionally spent, and T’Challa leans forward again, just a little.

 

“You can, of course, stay in the palace,” T’Challa reassures Bucky. Bucky twists back towards him, slightly red around the eyes but looking, for the most part, at peace. Bucky slowly shakes his head.

 

“Thank you,” he says, “but I’d rather not, if that’s ok.”

 

T’Challa frowns. It isn’t so much that he’s bothered by the fact that Bucky turned down staying with them in the palace - although who knew how Shuri was going to react to her new favourite person suddenly disappearing - but more by the obvious hole in Bucky’s plan.

 

“Sergeant Barnes, you have nowhere else to live,” T’Challa points out. Bucky looks at him.

 

“Bucky. And no, I know. But, uh.” He looks shy, for just a moment. “There are some huts, I saw? When Shuri was showing me parts of Wakanda? Down by the river.” He shuffles on his bed, gaze sliding away from T’Challa and to the window. Across the curve of Bucky’s damp cheek, T’Challa can see the heartbroken hunger with which he takes in the outside world. He is struck, suddenly, by that look. It is not the strange, half amused resignation Bucky has worn on his face ever since coming to Wakanda. It is the expression of a man once resigned, who has suddenly had the world opened up to him after the expectation of seeing nothing but a cell for the rest of his life.

 

“I’m fine just staying somewhere like that,” Bucky continues, eyes searching for the winding path of the river outside. “So long as that won’t be a problem for anyone else.”

 

T’Challa is silent, watching Bucky for a few moments more.

 

“I will see what I can do,” he says, and Bucky closes his eyes. Smiles.

 

“Thank you.”

 

~

 

There are children, who break into his hut. Break in being, of course, a very loosely used term given that there is no door on his hut. They call him something, and Bucky isn’t quite sure what.

 

He tries to repeat the words to Shuri when she visits him, as they sit on the bank and feel the sunlight stream over them. She laughs at his horrific pronunciation, until she is rolling on the ground, before picking herself up to try and translate the words she’s not even certain of.

 

“White Wolf,” she says, giggling. “If I’m actually understanding what you’re saying.”

 

Bucky doesn’t really understand it, as a nickname. But, there is nothing so bad about having a nickname in and of itself. Especially one which has with nothing to do with winter, and bestowed by children instead of evil men with their fingers and their machines deep in his brain.

 

_No more._

 

Shuri finally quiets, studying him.

 

“You know there is a man chasing after you?” She asks carefully. “Captain America?”

 

Bucky sighs. Steve never did know when to quit. He says as much, and Shuri’s head tilts.

 

“He was your friend before the war,” she says, “is he not your friend now?”

 

“He’s not _not_ my friend?” Bucky tries to puzzle it out in his own head. “After everything that was done to me, I don’t feel so much like myself. Not the me I was before or during the war.” He likes it when Shuri asks him questions. Explaining things to her is like finally making sense of them in his own mind. “My mind is fixed now, thanks to you,” he smiles at her proud grin, “but I’m still very different. He’s expecting me to be the guy he lost during the war. I need to know who I am _now_ before I’m ready to see him.” Things are still confused in his mind. Bucky needs the space to understand it all.

 

Shuri nods. “You’re the White Wolf now,” she says, lip twitching as she tries not to laugh again. “Not the Winter Soldier.”

 

“And not _Sergeant Barnes_ either,” Bucky says pointedly. They’ve been warring over getting Shuri to call him Bucky instead of Sergeant Barnes for a while now.

 

Shuri smiles back. “Just Bucky,” she sing-songs, clearly on the same page, “just Bucky, the White Wolf.” She climbs to her feet, flapping her hands at Bucky when he tries to stand too. “Stay. I want to put your hair up.”

 

Bucky relents, facing back towards the water as Shuri’s fingers dig into his hair, tugging at the strands. He could stay here forever, he thinks, breeze ruffling over him. Shuri gives a tug, and Bucky yelps, the noise dissolving into laughter, as does Shuri’s apology. “no no, _still_ ,” she cries, giving his hair another tug.

 

 _Yeah_ , Bucky thinks, as his hair twisted up in a strange half bun, and Shuri remains overhead insisting he visit more often to see T’Challa and everyone else. The sun settles low over the horizon, and Bucky closes his eyes, breathing out. This was a place he could learn to be happy again.


End file.
